Harm's Way: Riot MC Biloxi by Karen Renee (best e book reader .TXT) 📕

My brows furrowed because surely she would know how her son was doing. They were close, as far as I knew. “He’s good, I think. Haven’t seen him in weeks.”

She squinted one eye at me. “You’re living in his house, but haven’t seen him in weeks?”

“I’m not living-with-him living with him. He had an empty bedroom and let me move my stuff in when the ceiling collapsed at my old place.”

Her eyes widened. “So he was coming to see you?”

“He was there when it happened, but just as a friend.”

Her lips pressed together, and I suspected she knew I wasn’t telling her everything.

I heard a key unlocking the front door and I wondered who Har had sent over here now. It was Thursday so I knew it wasn’t a grocery delivery, but Mrs. Walcott paid no mind to the door opening.

“You always had a crush on Michael,” she said, just as Har strode to the kitchen doorway.

My eyes widened, partly at what she said, but mainly at how Har looked. He didn’t have stubble so much as a borderline beard. It gave him a different air, and my jury was out as to whether it was good or bad. His hair looked shorter, his cheeks had plenty of color, but I had no idea if it was from the sun or the wind. Probably both.

I looked to his mother. “Uh, no. It’s not like that, Mrs. Walcott.”

“No?” she asked.

The look on Har’s face held the same curiosity his mother’s had earlier. I expected him to keep silent and hear my response to his mother, but to my surprise he bailed me out.

“Thought I told you to call before coming here, Mom,” Har said.

She turned around. “I realized that once I parked the SUV, honey. I was pulling your number up when the garage door opened. Quite a surprise to see a woman ride a motorcycle up your drive, let alone into your garage.”

Tension filled the room as Har stared at her for a while, and I cleared my throat. “Well, I’ll just leave you two alone. It was nice to see you again, Mrs. Walcott.”

One of the many things I loved about Har’s kitchen included the two ways to exit the room. I slid to the side and hurried through the living room to my bedroom. It sounded like Har chuckled at me, but it could have been my imagination.

WHEN I VENTURED OUT of my room at dinner time, the house was silent, and peeking out the front window I saw Mrs. Walcott’s SUV was gone. Har hadn’t ridden his bike inside the garage earlier, but when I looked out the door to the garage, I noticed his bike wasn’t there either.

Seemed I had the place to myself, yet again.

I shook my head and pulled up an internet browser on my phone. Staying here was nice, especially since it was rent-free, but I wasn’t going to overstay my welcome. I double checked the addresses and made a plan. August would end in a little over a week, so if I was lucky, I could find a place in time for September.

The prospect had brought something for Har in a large cardboard box. He’d left the empty box in the garage without breaking it down. I snagged it and took it to my room. Moving thoroughly sucked balls, but if I had anything to say about it, this would be the last time I moved for twelve months.

I packed the box, folded it closed, and set it alongside the wall. I told myself to ask a couple cocktail waitresses to keep an eye out for liquor boxes since those tended to be sturdier.

My stomach growled and I warmed up a container of lasagna I had put in the freezer weeks ago. After I ate, I washed my dishes, took a shower, and lounged in bed reading a paranormal romance novel on my phone.

At eleven o’clock, I received a text from Har.

If you took that box from the garage to pack your shit, you better think again. ’Night.

I arched my brow at my phone. His observational skills surprised me, though I knew they shouldn’t have. The smart-ass in me couldn’t be denied and I texted him back.

How do you know I didn’t put it in the recycle bin all nice and folded up?

Twenty minutes passed without a response. I turned my bedside lamp to a lower setting and my phone chimed.

Because I just checked, Combes. Pull a stunt like that again, you’re gonna pay.

“Whatever,” I whispered and turned out my light.

In the morning, I went into the garage and hit the button to open the door. As the door rolled up, I saw Har’s bike missing and my bike had a flat tire.

“What the fuck?” I seethed.

I didn’t have a shift today, but that didn’t mean I didn’t have apartments to tour or rental applications to fill out.

“Goddammit,” I sighed.

On my phone, I pulled up the Uber app and priced a ride to the nearest apartment complex and bit my lip. It was just over ten dollars one way, which meant I was looking at another ten dollars to get back. Twenty dollars just to get to one property would set me back a little, but multiply that by four and I had a hard time justifying it. Most apartments had application fees and eighty dollars went a long way toward those expenses.

Shaking my head, I looked more closely at my rear tire and noticed the valve stem cap was missing. My hands went to my hips and I turned around my eyes scanning the floor of the garage. The cap sat next to the large recycle bin.

“You are joking,” I whispered.

I yanked my phone out of my pocket and called Brute.

He answered within the first ring. “Hey, Steph! How’s it hangin’?”

“Flat is how it’s hanging. Any possibility you can let me borrow your truck?”

My former stepbrother had the good grace to act shocked and confused. “Run that by me